It was the year 2012 when the boundaries of my world began to expand and my eyes fell upon the expanse of the ocean brimming with life calling out to me with open arms. I slowly started to picture my life seated by the beach, donning a straw hat, and gulping down fresh ideas for juices (as I am a type 1 diabetic).

2012, Chopdem Bridge, Goa, India

Goa unfurled a confetti every time a wave made to the shore. It celebrated a beautiful life lived in serene moments. It was mysterious and remote. There was a certain air of ambiguity and vagueness. It was conventionally different. Yes, they celebrated the magic of music and believed wearing colors brighter than the sunshine. They didn’t speak fluent English but Konkani sounded like a distant song. You wouldn’t see locals roaming around after dark. It was mostly the tourists wading the beaches.

I saw myself, and my life as a writer and a creative soul in Goa. I wanted to live vicariously, creating and learning from my own experiences. Subconsciously, my body and my mind started to do and undo to prepare. I started living the life I wanted to write about.  

Cut straight to 2023, and here I was making it all happen. Yes, it took a decade to be where I was. I thought that the only thing that would change would be me but time rubs off on everything it touches. I was married, a new mom, and an advertising professional now, who was looking for remote work options to balance the inner chakras and celebrate my new life.

2023, Coconut Tree Road, Parra, Goa

Goa, on the other hand, was no less than an over-busied toddler mom herself. She was trying to strike a balance between earning for herself and protecting and protesting the long hours, traffic, loud music, heaps of trash, numerous constructions, the foreigners, the Airbnbs, made out of the prettiest Portuguese villas, and the depleting “susegad” sauce served with its poi.

It wasn’t the same, Goa was different. It was trying to shed the extra pounds from the huge belly from all the food at lineups of newly opened, multi-cuisine restaurants serving North Indian and Goan specialties with the same vigor.

It seemed that while Goa was trying to exercise back to fitness, it looked down upon its desi treatment, i.e., the Indian tourists, and was happy being a passive smoker to the foreign tourists with a show of tolerance, openness, and oneness.

The foreigners around felt more concerned about the cleanliness, adoption of Indies, and the overall conduct of the state just like our Indian aunties who like to put their noses into other people’s business.  This concern felt odd to the point of discrimination and bias. Our brothers could be seen ignored and ill-treated by their own at restaurants and other points of leisure and activities.

I complete my first 9 Months in Goa. I see beyond the beaches, the coconut trees, the cheap beers, and the dainty posteriors of foreign tourists around.  I see a mother trying her best to go back to herself, feeling like herself while gearing up to the Gen Alpha of the baby Goa will be.

I see everyone fighting a cause alone, living free under the shackles of connectivity, wanting to push the envelope and also hold on to it for as long as they can. They are creators, entrepreneurs, they are enthusiasts, and remotely working moms trying to raise perfect babies with the blessings of nature.